


Absolution and Other Nightmares

by EvilOfEden



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, M/M, Medical Procedures, Multi, Traumatic Backstories, eventual Rob Lucci/Kaku/OC?, other characters/tags to be added as they appear, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 23:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30130215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilOfEden/pseuds/EvilOfEden
Summary: Cast aside and on the run, all the ex-members of CP9 want is a doctor to patch them up until they get their old jobs back. What they find instead is a sarcastic fallen priest from Skypeia, a plan for revenge that swiftly goes sideways, and maybe even a path toward the redemption for their fragile found family.That is, if their own haunted upbringings don't catch up to them first.---Current chapter: Rob Lucci doesn't like being touched by strangers, much less a criminal doctor poking around his insides. But desperate times call for desperate measures...
Relationships: Kaku/Rob Lucci
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Wake Up

Lucci wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with his chest cut open and a needle jabbed into his arm.

"What do you mean, he's awake?! That was enough sedative to put out an elephant!" The voice belongs to a stranger. Lucci's eyes adjust enough to see a white coat and a blade. Marine. He snarls and calls upon his claws.

"Someone, pin him down—"

"—Don't jostle him, can't risk another laceration—"

Everyone's shouting at once, but somehow louder than all of them, Lucci hears a wet, sucking noise. He belatedly realizes it's coming from his own chest. He tries to look down at his chest to see what's going on. He catches a glimpse of torn flesh, broken bones, and past that...

Now there are hands, familiar and calloused, on the sides of his face. They feel far warmer than they should.

"Hey, Lucci, calm down now. It's me." Kaku's talking. There's still-damp blood on his clothes, smears of red along his face. "Listen to me. You're injured. One of your lungs was punctured, so you might have a hard time breathing. But we're back on the ship now and getting you patched up. We need you to keep still, and soon you'll be right as rain. Okay? Can you do that for me?" Kaku doesn't keep his voice this calm and even unless something's very, very wrong.

Lucci doesn't remember any new injuries. He'd been recovering fine, all the fights since Straw Hat were far too easy, how...?

Something cold clicks around one wrist, a tingling wave of numbness spreading through his body. Sea Prism Stone handcuffs. His strength slips away, but the urge to fight still burns. None of the facts adds up, none of his _thoughts_ add up when he usually keeps them so damn orderly.

"That should keep him from transforming," Kalifa says, out of sight.

"Yeah, but now he's panicking," says that unfamiliar voice. Lucci would protest that he's not one for panic, not when anger is so much more familiar. "Quick, hand me that vial, keep him steady..."

There are too many hands everywhere, pushing and pulling, and Lucci doesn't want to be touched he just wants _answers_. Every time he takes a breath, the air itself seems farther away. He tries to pull away from Kaku's hands and the manacle around his wrist. Even without his beast mode available, he snarls.

And then comes the prick of a needle, somehow still so sharp, and a voice ordering "Stand Down" as if it were a god's demand. Lucci doesn't have time to realize what's happening, but his eyelids flutter shut, and his thoughts finally settle into agreement that he needs to rest. He can always find answers and bloodshed when he awakens.

Lucci wakes up again in the unfamiliar room, but this time, everything's quiet. Daylight trickles in from a nearby window.

He takes a breath, and it still hurts but at least he's not gasping for air. He's propped up with pillows so he's sitting up on the bed, which he realizes is the one in the makeshift infirmary of the ship he and his fellow ex-members of CP9 had acquired. He looks down at his chest. Plenty of bandages and stitches...and what looks like a small tube sticking out of an incision.

"Don't touch it. Or do, if you want to risk your lung collapsing again. I'm sure the rest of the crew would rather you didn't, but hey, I'm not your boss..."

Lucci looks over at the other end of the room and sees the stranger with the white coat. With his senses returned to him, he realizes it's a doctor's coat and not a Marine's. The stranger is lanky and androgynous, with long rusty hair tied back in a ponytail, and stands with a slight stoop. There's a clipboard in their hand, thick glasses on their face, and their fingers are covered in rings that glint gold in the light.

"I don't recall inviting you onto my ship," Lucci says. Good, he can speak again.

"I'm sure there's a lot you don't recall, considering how many sedatives we had to inject you with." The doctor laughs lightly in contrast to their footfalls, which are loud thanks to their boots with thick rubber soles. "I'm sure the rest of your crew will fill you in, but depending on your point of view, you either kidnapped me or rescued me. Verdict's still out. How're you feeling?"

"I've felt worse." He goes to cross his arms, only to realize his wrist is still trapped in the sea prism stone manacles, chaining him to the bed. "Explain what happened."

The doctor hooks a foot around the leg of a nearby stool to pull it over, and perches on it like some sort of bird. (Which begs the question, where's Hattori?) "Sure thing. First off, in case you didn't already know, you had multiple broken ribs before all this started."

Lucci nods slowly. The doctors in St. Poplar said as much, seeing as many of his bones were broken or fractured after his fight with Straw Hat. But casts couldn't be put on ribs; those could only heal with time. Still, the pain in his torso had dulled to a low ache, so he'd felt fine unless he took a deep breath. (Or laughed, but when did Rob Lucci ever laugh?)

The doctor continues, "Normally, this isn't much of a problem...except not only are you a fighter, but you're a Zoan. And with shapeshifters like you, your innards have to move around when you shift to accommodate changes in size and anatomy. During one of your last transformations, while you were storming an entire Marine base with your pals...well, one of your broken ribs cut up your lungs. All that leaking air had nowhere to go, so it slowly built up in your chest. Threatened to crush your organs. Even a tough kitty like you couldn't survive that." The doctor tilts their head. "Hope it was worth whatever you were looking for."

Right, the mission. The ex-CP9 agents had broken into a Marine base for a variety of reasons (mostly supplies), but Lucci had gone in search of information from a jailed informant. Words hadn't worked, but blood got Lucci all the answers he'd needed...though that also summoned the guards. The rest is hazy from there, infuriatingly so. But what he learned, that's crystal clear.

"Indeed it was."

"Good! We'll see if your pals agree. You had them worried sick; I was scared I'd have to take care of them once you were handled! You're lucky they came for you when they did. And that they broke me out of my cell once I told them what was going on with you. Speaking of which..."

The doctor puts out their hand. The skin is rough and calloused, sharp contrast to the smooth and intricate gold rings that decorate each finger. "I'm sure you forgot my name, so let's pretend this is our first introduction, yeah? Call me Bedlam. Or Doctor Bedlam. Not Doc, though. And you?"

Lucci isn't fond of strangers in close quarters to him at the best of times. Especially not this grinning stranger who reeks of coffee. He still remembers that hand holding a scalpel over his chest. Then again, he's seen plenty of foes die gasping for air as their chests caved in. The idea of such a fate almost befalling him..is not one he wants to think about.

"Rob Lucci." He doesn't shake. "How long must this tube remain?"

"Few days, maybe a week. Depends on how long it takes for your lung to re-inflate. And then to be safe, absolutely no shifting until your ribs have healed. Got it?" Before Lucci can protest, Bedlam reaches over and points their pencil at Lucci's nose. "It's not a promise you need to make me, but for your friends."

In most circumstances, Lucci would protest calling anyone a friend. His fellow fugitives are coworkers, maybe teammates on a good day. Growing up with them and working with half of them in close proximity for the past five years didn't change that.

"Fine. Go inform them that I'm awake."

"You're not my boss, but I'll play along and let them know. Next time, I hope you'll be recovered enough for some manners." Bedlam winks, then nearly trips over their own boots as they hop off the wooden stool. Fool. But a lifesaving fool, somehow.

The second the door opens, Hattori flutters in and perches on the bedframe next to Lucci's shoulder. The pigeon coos like a relieved sigh. Lucci reaches up and pets his companion's head. Funny, how the mere presence of his pigeon can immediately put him at ease.

There's a commotion outside, the sounds of the entire team talking at once until Doctor Bedlam raises their voice and says "Calm your asses down and stop screeching all at once, you louts! Want to give the poor guy another panic attack? He's recovering just fine! Be happy with that and go take a load off." 

For a moment, Lucci feels something with those words, willpower lashing out to turn a statement into a demand. He'd felt something similar just before blacking out from the sedatives, he's sure of it. It's not enough to make Lucci cower (and judging by the sounds outside, none of the other agents falter either), but it's enough to make him notice. And that only raises further questions about who this stranger on his ship really is.

Whatever power this doctor may or may not possess, they clearly have no concept of Rokushiki, Soru in particular, as one agent slips through the door and shuts it. Kaku appraises Lucci with his eyes, keeping all emotion off his face. After a long moment, he nods in approval and locks the door behind him.

Lucci raises an eyebrow. "Your turn to play doctor?"

"Ha! Figured you could use the peace and quiet." Carefully, he sits on the bed next to Lucci's less injured side. Smiles at the cacophony outside, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"You were worried," Lucci surmises.

"I knew you'd pull through somehow. You're impossible to kill." Kaku's voice remains calm and even, like it's still the night before and he's talking Lucci out of eviscerating a room of people trying to save his life. "I'd appreciate if you stopped getting so darn close to crossing that bridge, though. Second time in a month. If you really want to give us all a heart attack, there's got to be a more efficient way to do it."

Lucci isn't the sort to acknowledge any mistakes out loud, and he'd be damned if anyone ever caught him saying sorry. He wraps an arm around Kaku's waist instead. "I'll find another way to keep you all on your toes."

"Much obliged." That gets the younger member to calm down a little, though he never fully relaxes, none of them ever do. "Get everything you needed from your informant?"

"Of course. And now he won't even need to worry about rotting away in a Marine prison cell." After all, the dead tended to be far more silent than the living. "We know where Spandam's being transferred, and what sort of forces are assigned to him, and a way to sneak past them. We've got the name of another contact who's kept tabs on the Straw Hats, so we can figure out what they're planning. And I have a map of emergency safe houses suddenly without an owner."

"So, we're sticking with the plan? Either get Spandam to reverse his decision or beat up the Straw Hats and recapture Nico Robin, and get our jobs back?"

Lucci nods. Either option would work well. Spandam is spineless and will do anything to save his own skin, so long as they can reach him with threats he can't ignore. And if they instead finish off the Straw Hats and return with Nico Robin in tow, that should be enough of a peace offering to regain their proper positions. Whichever the method, it should be easy enough to prove that Spandam's decision to paint targets on their back was a foolish one. Justice will win in the end. It's only a matter of time. 

And...caution. Much as Lucci doesn't want to admit it, he's gotten too used to having the World Government's top medical staff on call at all times, along with no one else posing a challenge until now. He can handle pain, but serious injuries? Having to watch his transformations to avoid _this_ happening? What an aggravating inconvenience.

Speaking of which... "This doctor. Bedlam. How did they end up here?"

Outside, the doctor can be heard arguing with the rest of the crew as they try to pick the lock to the infirmary. Impressive, that they aren't cowed even when it sounds like Jabra shifts into wolf form and Kumadori tries to pick the lock with his hair.

Kaku begins, "I wrapped up sabotaging the ships earlier than planned, so I moved to rendezvous with you at the jail cell. Fukuro was there too, and I don't think Kalifa and Jabra were too far behind. The scene was already pretty bloody when we arrived. Everyone was dead except those smart enough to hide in their cells and the soldiers responding to the tripped alarm. No one seemed stronger than normal or anything. Which is why it was weird when you started gasping."

Lucci wracks his brain to remember. He remembered fighting in his beastman form, reveling in the bloodshed, the confusion that blossomed as he realized he wasn't getting enough air but couldn't find any new wounds on his body. It hadn't been the first time he'd transformed since his initial hospital release, so he hadn't connected his shapeshifting with the possibility of piercing his own lungs.

"We had no idea what was wrong, but you were getting worse by the minute. Jabra and Fukuro kept the guards at bay while Kalifa and I tried to figure out what was wrong. At one point, I tried to help you get some air, and that's when the doctor spoke up. Said that'd only hurt you more in the long run, since you technically had plenty of air, it just...wasn't going to the right spot." He pauses, lightly grasping the hand Lucci's placed on his hip and tracing slow circles with his thumb. "They said with nowhere else to go, all that air would crush your heart sooner than later. Directed us on how to get it out. Had to stab you to make an opening in your chest. Sorry again about that."

Another memory settles into place. Kaku's lips on his, gifting breaths. His own skin had felt far too cold. He'd shifted back into his human form, and that had exacerbated the pain. And then he faintly recalled the doctor's voice, but not the words. Moments later, a sharp stab between his ribs, and the world went hazy after that. He looks down and sees the spot, between his second and third rib on his injured side, now covered in a bandage.

"I suppose I should thank you, for being desperate enough to ask a criminal for help."

Kaku is quiet for a long moment. Outside, the others are laughing at something, but the sound is strained, the tension not quite broken.

"Lucci, we almost lost you once already. And you didn't see how bad you looked. How you _sounded_."

Oh, Kaku. For as ruthless as he can be, he has such a tender heart. Lucci briefly tightens his one-armed embrace and rests his head on Kaku's chest. He tells himself it's just to calm the younger agent down, to prove that all efforts paid off and Lucci is still here. He doesn't admit how soothing the steady rhythms in Kaku's chest are.

After a quiet moment, Lucci shifts the subject back to the matter at hand; he doesn't want to dwell on his newly remembered mortality any longer than he has to. "How much does this doctor know about us? Will they need to be killed afterwards?"

"Golly, I hope not. They know we're strong, on the run, and not currently aligned with the Marines. Amazingly enough, they haven't asked questions beyond that. And we've kept a close watch on Fukuro to keep him from blabbing." Kaku shrugs. "Granted, we haven't gotten much out of them either. They claim they were captured because they were treating one of the Marines's targets, but we haven't learned more than that. Hasn't been time to do so, really."

Which made it even more curious. Did this doctor only help out because they believed the ex-CP9 members to be enemies of the Marines? Or was this emergency surgery just the fastest ticket out of their cell?

The lock finally clicks open, and the rest of the crew bursts into the room. Everyone talks all at once. Sentiments of worry from Kalifa and Blueno, chatter from Fukuro about what he's missed in the meantime. Kumadori launches into one of his haikus, and Jabra immediately sets about teasing Lucci for getting himself banged up (and Kaku for his "bedside manner" which sets the wolf and giraffe into an immediate spat).

Doctor Bedlam hangs by the door and shoots Lucci a questioning look, as if asking if they should wrest the crew from his room again. Lucci answers with a shake of his head. Much as his crew grates on his nerves at times, it's better than being stuck alone with his own thoughts and the sound of his breaths leaking out of a tube. 

Bedlam grins and saunters away, leaving the rest of the crew at peace. But as they step away, something slips out from their coat, slowly floating down to settle on the deck.

A...feather?


	2. No Rest For the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the former CP9 agents and the strange doctor they've picked up begin the slow dance of figuring out what each other's deal is. Coffee drinking and Fukuro-kicking ensues.

It's been some time since Bedlam has stepped foot on a ship. They find themselves unsteady on their feet, but the cool sea breeze flowing through their hair makes for an acceptable trade-off. They climb up to the crow's nest to give the crew (their rescuers, or captors?) some space. What a curious group, the doctor thinks as they watch from above. Bedlam doesn't need to see their scars to know that they're skilled fighters; it's baked into the ways they move, the way they never fully let their guards down even around each other. 

The doctor's trained eyes also catches some of the ingrained injuries the crew's sustained (except the pink-haired loudmouth, he somehow seems perfectly healed and untouched). Ms. All-Business has traces of lightning damage poking out from her sleeves (Bedlam tries not to think where such a wound might come from, or the similar arcing scars on their own skin). The angry older man has a large burn scar on his chest that he keeps unconsciously covering with his arms instead of buttoning his shirt. Zipper-Face favors one leg over the other, and Long-Nose's moves are precise but stiff, clearly in pain but trying to hide it. Mr. Horn-Hair seems to be recovering from broken ribs and the like, much like Lucci.

Speaking of that Lucci guy...

Bedlam has seen plenty of battered fighters in their time as a doctor (and before even that), but Lucci is something else. Especially those bullet wounds on his back, the skin warped with age and growth; he must've earned those scars a long time ago. Yet he doesn't seem that old; he and Bedlam are likely around the same age. But if that's the case...how long has this man been fighting for?

Bedlam lets their gaze drift into the empty blue sky. This group is clearly familiar with each other, and look up to Lucci as their leader. They seemed so damn lost when he was injured. Yet this ship doesn't seem very lived in, and its flags are blank. If these are pirates, they're quite new to the gig. But who, other than pirates, would break into a Marine base for information? To continue this train of thought, these are experienced combatants with no doctor, but seem used to having others look after the worst of their wounds.

Conclusion: Until recently, these people were part of a larger group. One that had medical professionals to look after their fighters, but none close enough to take with them on this journey. With how hard the crew tries to keep Zipper-Face's mouth shut, they don't want anyone knowing their previous affiliations. Had they left on purpose? Hard to tell, with injuries like those; they were more likely forced to defect and now they're on the run.

Intriguing. And it all reminds Bedlam more of themselves than they'd care to admit.

Part of Bedlam asks if they know what they're getting into. Even if they have no love for the Marines, helping out enemies of the World Government wouldn't guarantee anyone a long lifespan. And if these folks are as dangerous as they appear, that's not going to help Bedlam's karma any. Eight years of trying to wash metaphorical blood off their hands, right down the drain. A doctor's job is to help the injured, but maybe it'd be best to damn their curiosity and hop off at the next island.

Ah, but this is all guesswork and assumption. A doctor needs to work with facts. And there are some things that even the strongest wills couldn't hide.

Bedlam lets their gaze drift down below, vision unfocused, and the world bleeds away into auras.

First come the outer layers of current emotional states. Relief. Tension. Worry. Joy. Confusion and concern. These people are lost, as Bedlam had surmised, but it goes beyond seeing their leader hurt. They're bereft of purpose, which makes sense if they recently vacated a larger group. But they're also happy, because they're still together. How lucky for them, Bedlam can't help but think.

They push their vision, their will, deeper. Now, they know that no two auras are alike, as no two people are exact duplicates. Some of these strangers down below are ruled by anger, pride, secrets. Most of them, deep down, are kind...though in some of those auras, it's almost smothered to nothingness.

But all these auras are marked with darkness and tinged with the red of bloodlust. It eats away at the light like a hunger, an infection, and damn is it rooted deep. Whatever this crew has done in their past, they aren't petty pirate crimes like mere thievery and tavern brawls. These people have committed acts that nearly broke them and certainly destroyed others...and some of them want to do it again, again, again.

Bedlam wishes they could say they'd never seen anything like it. That the mere sight makes them want to fling themselves into the sea and swim in order to escape all the faster. But no, these auras are a familiar sight. Comforting, in a sick way. These are people who might understand if they found out...

No. Just because this crew might be cut from the same cloth as the doctor, doesn't mean they're safe to confide in. Bedlam can't walk up to them and say "Hi, I see you've also got blood on your hands and maybe it's slowly crushing you inside, want to try to build something from our own ashes together?" These folks clearly just want a healer to stave off death for a moment more before they fling themselves headlong into whatever bloody path they're carving. No more, no less.

Down below, one of the auras flares. Bedlam blinks and the real world slips back in. Down below, Rob Lucci stares at them through the infirmary window. Can he somehow tell that the doctor was looking at his aura, dark and steadfast and pulsing with a hunger for blood?

Bedlam smiles and waves. Lucci turns away and pretends he wasn't caught. Yet Bedlam has the distinct feeling that they're under watch, and who knows what this crew is really after...

The crew and the doctor keep their distance from each other, beyond what's necessary for Lucci's medical care. Everyone catches the doctor glancing at their scars from afar, but Bedlam keeps their mouth shut on that subject. It seems the doctor only speaks in either sarcastic quips or orders born from genuine concern, the latter laced with...something unusual.

Part of CP9 training included lessons on Haki, how to recognize and counter it, but not how to use it. Most of its elements were similar enough to Rokushiki that their superiors determined the six techniques would be enough for them. But there was one Haki skill that they couldn't even attempt to replicate, and that was the power to bend others to their will with the Conqueror's Haki. That was apparently a power that couldn't be taught. One had to be born with it, and those individuals were rare indeed. It isn't a skill meant for a random doctor to possess and use to make sure their patients cooperated.

Not that any of the agents bow to the Haki's influence; their wills are strong, and their training included how to resist outside influences. But merely feeling that intrusion of will is disconcerting enough. Bedlam seems unnerved as well, be it by the lack of compliance or what they've surmised from the crew's scars.

Whatever Lucci thinks on the matter, he keeps up an unreadable façade. When he listens to the doctor's orders, he makes it clear that he does so of his own volition. He doesn't rise to meet the snarky comments, but he also doesn't threaten any bodily harm, an impressive feat considering his recent mood. That doesn't answer the question of what he might do once he got that tube out of his chest. Is this doctor a future tool, or dead meat walking?

Hard to say. No one gets close to the stranger on board, the one person they haven't known since childhood, and this seems fine with the doctor.

The first day passes easily enough. By the second, Lucci is up and walking again to get his lungs in working order. Bedlam declares that as long as he plays it safe, "which means _not_ threatening people as an angry kitty-cat, you can do that well enough as a human with that scowl of yours," he should be back in good health within a couple days.

"Of course, I'd have an easier time making sure of that back at my own infirmary," Bedlam says later. The entire crew is trying to chart their destination, huddled around a series of maps (most stolen from the Marine base by Fukuro, listing all the patrol routes and Marine-friendly islands nearby). They hadn't planned on including Bedlam, but seeing as they live around these parts, they've been brought in to comment on the reliability of the maps. 

The doctor points at a small island, barely a speck on the biggest map they had. "This here's Mura island. It's small, we don't get a lot of visitors, but you'll be able to restock and get your wounds looked at. Heck, if you have time, I can give all of you a once-over. Doesn't look like you lot have seen a doctor aside from Lucci, right?"

"Sure we have," Jabra says, even though that's a bald-faced lie considering how broke the fugitive crew is. "We're all doing just fine. Think you're so smart that you know us better than we do, doc?"

"I told you not to call me that, Jabberjaw." Bedlam blows a sigh into their bangs. "All I'm saying is, the island's neutral, and you lot look like you can use all the help you can get if you're picking fights with the Marines. I'm sure the island would be happy to help as thanks for you rescuing me."

"We are running low on supplies," Blueno comments in his deep, neutral tone. "This ship wasn't fully stocked when we...acquired it."

Kalifa adds, "A medical checkup before the next phase of our mission wouldn't be amiss either, despite what some fools may say."

Fukuro speaks up before anyone can stop him, "Yeah chapapa! Jabra, you almost got burned to a crisp from the inside out! You might need a doctor more than the rest of us. Then again, Kaku got sliced up pretty bad, and..."

Without warning, the spherical member of CP9 is promptly kicked out of the room by no less than three agents, with barely time to activate his Iron Body before he flies out the door. No one reacts but Bedlam, who blinks in surprise and confusion. "Is he...going to be okay?"

"If that were enough to really harm him, he wouldn't be part of this team," Lucci says, his voice calm and cool. "We'll chart a course for this island of yours, Doctor Bedlam. I suspect all will be in order when we deliver you home."

In most circumstances, Bedlam would make a joke about "oh yeah, because I totally planned for you to break me out of prison so I could trap you on my island full of easygoing fishermen, you saw right through my plan," but they can tell when they're on thin ice. Judging by Lucci's tone, and the looks of those still in the room, they're lucky their offer was accepted so readily. This crew is desperate for help but don't want to admit it.

So Bedlam smiles and says, "I'm sure it will be. Now, I'll give you some time with your crew. And...make sure Zipper-Face is alright. Doctor's instinct." They saunter out the room and close it behind them. Everyone remains quiet until they hear the doctor's heavy footfalls pace away.

"We'll continue to trust Bedlam for now?" Kalifa asks as she pushes up her glasses. Lucci hasn't damaged anyone who's helped them thus far since their escape, but then again, they haven't let anyone else onboard their ship, and this doctor seems too perceptive for their own good. Then there's the matter of that Haki...

Lucci's face remains impassive as he stares at the maps in front of him. Everyone ignores the sound of air leaking through the tube in his chest.

"They have yet to give us a reason not to." His eyes flick up to his crew. "See what you can learn about them. We'll make a decision from there."

They nod in turn. It's a small order, but it's something. Everyone's chafing at the current lack of mission operatives beyond "survive", Lucci included. He's got the pieces of a plan, it's all coming together...but a grand scheme marrying Revenge and Justice doesn't solve more immediate concerns of supplies and quelling unexpected medical complications.

So, off to this tiny island. One step at a time. Supplies, medicine for the crew...maybe a doctor. Maybe not. Depends on what the hell they're hiding.

The day passes on. Bedlam notices a shift, as now the crew steps in to check in on them in their lab. They even bother to introduce themselves. Blueno offers them coffee. Kalifa makes sure they have all the supplies they need in the infirmary for the time being. Kaku offers status reports on Lucci, and Kumadori offers...some sort of haiku recital? Weird. Jabra continues to keep his distance, but he does laugh at one of Bedlam's sarcastic quips, so that's a sort of victory. And Fukuro's more than happy to talk to someone new, though there's a wariness to his aura that indicates he's trying very, very hard not to spill anything he shouldn't.

Lucci must've approved of the doctor enough for the rest of the crew to approach, Bedlam thinks. And part of them urges caution, but on the other hand it's so nice to talk to other people again. Mura Island is pleasant enough, but visitors are such a rare occurrence.

As the sun slips from horizon to memory, the rest of the crew discusses who's taking which watch. Seems the Marines aren't just after this crew, but hot on their tails. Bedlam plans on staying up through the night, their excuse being so they can on-call in case Lucci takes a turn in the middle of the night. In reality, the doctor doesn't sleep much in the first place, as suggested by the large mug of coffee in their hands that Blueno recently refilled. 

Nice guy. Hard to imagine him as a deadly fighter. Same is true of most of these folks, but maybe that's why they're all so good at it. Element of surprise and all. Bedlam sips their coffee and inwardly laments their apparently broken sense of self-preservation, consorting with fugitives as they are.

Watches are decided, and Bedlam finds their companions for the first part of the night are Kaku and Blueno. The doctor finds this a relief, as they seem to be two of the more level-headed members of this crew. Kaku quickly bounds up to the rigging with a single fluid jump. Bedlam catches him pacing up there whenever they look up, as he inspects the masts or stares off at the horizon. Seems he gets stiff if he doesn't keep moving; must be some lingering pain after that scrap Fukuro mentioned. Something to investigate later, if trust allows.

"He's nervous about your boss, huh?" Bedlam asks Blueno back on the deck. "They seem close. I mean, you all do, but..."

Blueno shrugs his massive shoulders. "Kaku and Lucci worked together in close proximity for the past few years. And Kaku's young. I'm sure you've seen this a lot with your patients."

"Yeah, sure do. Partners get worried sick regardless of age. Sometimes literally." Though the patients back on Mura tend not to get life-threatening injuries under such...violent circumstances. "Have you all been a crew for long, then? Seems you're all close already." Better to have the crew admit things instead of working solely off of assumption.

"We have been...colleagues for some time, yes." Blueno pauses as up above, Kaku flings himself off the top of the ship and lands perfectly on the bowsprit. Blueno notes the doctor's questioning look and says, "He does that sometimes."

"I...see. That's some skill. If I stuck a landing like that, it'd be with my face. Or I'd miss and fall into the sea. Good thing I'm not yet a devil."

Blueno says nothing. Bedlam absently wonders if, other than Lucci, anyone else on this ship has supped from the devil's fruit, as the Mura island elders put it. Probably not, if these folks are prone to flinging themselves precariously above those churning waters. They're dangerous but not suicidal, surely.

"What about you?" Blueno rumbles after a time. "You have a crew, or anything similar back on your island?"

Bedlam shakes their head. "Left home with nothing. No friends, no family, just my rings and..." No, they don't know about those yet, shush. "...my impeccable sense of humor." They catch Blueno's eyebrow raising, a clear indicator that he noticed the brief pause. Or he's looking at the rings. Bedlam raises a hand and wiggles their fingers; each one is laden with at least one gold ring, many of them carved with pictographs. "At least I brought something useful. Don't have to worry about going broke."

Good thing these folks aren't thieves. Bedlam tested it, leaving the rings on a side table most of the day to see if any of the jewelry "mysteriously vanished". None of them were touched. There isn't even a hint of greed in Blueno's eyes, though there's certainly a muted curiosity. Two strangers slowly appraising each other, making wild guesses about who the other might've been before their chance encounter. It's a quiet game played over coffee cups.

"So...what do you do when you're not breaking into Marine bases and absconding with confused doctors? Surely working the boat isn't an all-day task."

"No, but we don't have much time for hobbies. And I ended up as the group cook."

"Because you're the best at it, or the only one willing to do so?"

"Both. Worked at a bar for the past few years. Picked up a few tricks. You cook?"

"Couple recipes from home. Sometimes, the best medicine is a warm bowl of pumpkin soup."

"Mmm. Can't argue with that. Recipe from Mura, or...?"

Bedlam stares into the dregs of their rapidly-emptying cup. They remember the flavors from home, helping pick pumpkins twice the size of their head, a certain someone who laughed at their pitiful strength as they lugged their prizes home.

"I was born on an island far, far away from here. I make do with what I can find, but no matter how many traders I hit up, I can never find all the spices I need, or a pumpkin that tastes quite right." Bedlam sighs and finishes their drink. "S'pose that's to blame for me ending up in a jail cell. I had to go off-island to restock my medical supplies, and I got a hankering for soup at the wrong time, so I wandered down to the market in time to catch the aftermath of a brawl between pirates and marines. One of the pirates hid in an alley near the valley and his blood smelled so strong, I had to drop everything and help him. Next I know, Marines are dragging me away before I can finish stitching the guy's belly closed. Poor thing probably got sepsis. Wouldn't wish that on anyone, no matter how cruel a pirate they are."

Blueno is quiet for a long moment. "Sounds like the motto of someone who has yet to witness the depths of human cruelty."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just hope that maybe, the cruel can turn their lives around and make up for what they've done somehow, if given the chance."

"...And are you cruel, doctor?"

Bedlam thinks of home again. Of an island that no longer exists except in memory. How it might still be around, if Bedlam hadn't chosen the wrong side and kept their damn mouth shut.

"I was, once. Lousy for a doctor to say, I know. Are you?"

"Every one of us. Perhaps that's why we all get along. Pretending to be something you're not around others gets...tiring."

Bedlam laughs softly. "You can say that again. At least we've got coffee."

Silence drifts back in, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the boat. Up overhead, Kaku strides along the yardarm. A stray breeze knocks off his hat, and he does a backflip to chase after it. He does a little pose when he lands, and Blueno shakes his head like he's used to the man being a show-off. Bedlam claps and smiles, and even knowing what lurks in the auras of this strange group, they decide that maybe they like this crew anyway. It's the closest they've felt to being understood since they left home, even though they haven't breathed a word of what they've done.

Of course, it's dangerous to pin one's hopes on other people. Bedlam should know that better than anyone. They sip the final dregs of their coffee and try not to think of the past or future, just the present on this dark and quiet ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd planned more action, but it decided to escape to next chapter. Hope y'all at least enjoy reading Bedlam's POV half as much as I enjoy writing them.

**Author's Note:**

> Cringe is dead, make self-indulgent OCs and redemption arcs for your favorite furry antagonists.  
> In all seriousness, I'm having fun writing this fanfic and I have many, many plans for it. Whole arcs even. I'll stick with writing this as long as I can, because CP9 deserves some redemption and a happy ending (though I also have a day job and write Original Fic, so updates may be sporadic later on).  
> If you want more of my thoughts on CP9 (and some art, both of CP9 and Bedlam), I have a One Piece tumblr blog, pagingdoctorbedlam.


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